Spin
by Petra Todd
Summary: There are days when Kylo Ren is ashamed of his dreams and the fantasies he uses to lull himself to sleep. But there's too much truth in this dream for him to feel guilty. (Post-TLJ, and inspired in part by Rian Johnson discussing spin the bottle at Jedi camp!)


The war was almost over, the First Order's top analysts assured him. The Rebellion was in pieces, with no supplies and only a handful of fighters and one Jedi at their disposal. It was only a matter of time before the measly band of survivors remaining surrendered or perished. Their allies had disappeared the moment they saw which way the wind was blowing. A massive victory was on the horizon for Kylo Ren, the new Supreme Leader of the galaxy.

So why was he so weary of it all? Kylo pondered the question after retreating his quarters alone, leaving behind the smug self-congratulatory noises from Hux and his toadies.

His officers were not loyal to him, he knew. They answered to the general, and were already plotting to remove him. In the old days, he would have slaughtered them all for thinking it; now he tucked away the knowledge of their loathing for him, saving it all for the moment when he would replace the First Order with a new world, a New Order, one that bound the entire galaxy in peace and prosperity. Under him.

Shedding his clothes on the way to the fresher, Kylo turned on the sonic shower and let the waves of pressure soothe his sore muscles. He'd been exercising more intensely of late, so as not to become too soft on the throne. He was the strongest he'd ever been, and centered since he'd excised the cancer that was Snoke from his brain. Everything was as it should be.

But when he laid down to rest that night, only his failure came to mind. It had been months, but he couldn't shake the feeling that some part of him was still on Crait, kneeling and watching her go-

 _Stop._ He admonished himself.

Closing the door, shutting him out, the bond between them bleeding like a wound that wouldn't heal.

The memories of her, of his life, the steps that led him to this point- he couldn't make it stop.

As Kylo drifted off to sleep, her face slid into his mind, and he hated himself for welcoming it.

* * *

His lightsaber had been crafted with meticulous care, the balance achieved through an ancient process and powered with a kyber crystal that streamed blue and pure when activated. Ben was proud of the workmanship he'd put into his weapon; it was equal to Luke's own green saber, his uncle had admitted with barely concealed pride. When the hilt showed the slightest hint of scuffing, Ben would spend hours rehabilitating his lightsaber, buffing out the scratches until his piece felt new again.

Glancing around the circle of giggling Padawans, he wondered what his uncle would think, seeing Ben's lightsaber lying on the sandy floor of the hut, the hilt scraping the dirt with every spin.

"Oi! No cheating!" cried Daven to his left. The blond Coruscanti boy pointed at his friends. "I think someone is trying to push it!" Daven grinned and leaned in to spin once again. Their friends around them whooped as the wobbling hilt rotated wildly, eventually slowing down to point across at Crissald Lendo. Criss blushed and scrambled forward to meet Daven in the center of the circle. The Padawans cheered as the boys' lips met for a heated minute, and then laughed as Criss broke the kiss with his usual snark.

"Is that bantha steak in your teeth or is that last week's groat chop?" Criss' smile took the sting out of his words.

"Bit of both; you want some more?" Daven replied, his eyes sparkling.

The Padawans cracked up again; Daven and Criss' easy banter had been entertaining them all night as they passed around the brandy Ben had dug up.

He really shouldn't be letting them do this, not with his lightsaber anyway. But Luke was off-planet for the day, hunting down a rumored old Jedi text, leaving Ben in charge as the eldest at nineteen. The Padawans had been working hard lately, showing progress despite the restlessness of spring setting in; what could you expect from a half-dozen teenage students, pushed to their mental limits every day? Once the little ones were asleep in their rooms, all the older Padawans gathered in the main hut by the hearth _(all except one_ , Ben thought with an odd pang), and the game began.

Lounging back and watching, Ben took a swig from his cup of Corellian brandy, from the bottle his father had sent him. Luke raised his eyebrows at the gift when it arrived, but he never could say no to his old friend Han. And Ben hadn't so much as touched the bottle in the six months since he'd received it. That was the last time he'd heard from his father, come to think of it.

He was deep into his glass, the heady liquor sitting warmly in his gut, when he felt a nudge on his thigh.

"Are you playing, Ben?" a voice asked him.

He choked down the mouthful of brandy, looked up, and shook his head. _When did she get here?_

The new girl, the one from Jakku. Last month, his uncle had gone questing for a Jedi artifact and instead came home with an eighteen-year-old girl, rippling with power _. Rey._ Rey who wore her hair in a series of ridiculously complicated buns, Rey who somehow managed to knock Ben into the dust the first time they ever sparred, Rey whose warmth burned through the Force even now as he sat quietly trying to tune her out.

"The little ones are asleep," she said with a shrug, settling onto the floor beside him. The firelight caught her dimples as she gazed up at him and smiled. "Do they do this often?"

Ben swallowed, willing his heartbeat to slow. "Not much; my uncle isn't one for games. I think he forgets sometimes what it's like. To be young, to not be in control of our own lives. All these damn rules." Ben cleared his throat. "Do you want some? Brandy I mean."

Rey shook her head. "No I don't drink. It gives me strange dreams. And it's dehydrating. I don't like that feeling. Thirsty and then lightheaded and when you see what people do when they're drinking…"

They watched as Criss spun the lightsaber, and laid a rather sloppy kiss on Luma. The green Twi'lek girl wrinkled her nose, and her _lekku_ twitched in disgust.

"Yeah, it's not a good look." Ben set his cup down. "And some of them are going to regret the kissing tomorrow."

"Still…"

"Still what?" Ben asked.

In the circle, Luma grabbed the lightsaber, and set it to spinning. Ben and Rey watched as the hilt spun out and rolled halfway across the circle, ultimately pointing at a wall.

"Do over!" cried Daven.

"Just…still." It was difficult to say in the dimly lit hut, but Rey's cheeks looked pinker than they had a moment ago.

Luma's second spin was more effective, the lightsaber turning and turning until the tip came to rest pointing at Rey.

"Wait, are you playing? Join us," Luma laughed. "Don't listen to the teacher's pet. He's practically a Jedi, soooo serious." Her face folded into a frowning pout; Ben sighed, recognizing her customary teasing imitation of him.

"I'll play," Rey said loudly, her voice cutting through the others' laughter. "I'm playing. What do I do?"

Luma's pout melted away. "Oh, good! I spun, it landed on you. So now we kiss, or whatever we feel comfortable with. It's fun!" Luma crawled on her hands and knees over to where Rey sat.

Ben shifted uncomfortably beside her. He didn't want to watch Rey and Luma go at it. He was suddenly, desperately sick of this game.

"Alright," Rey agreed. Leaning forward, her hands came to rest on Luma's shoulders, drawing the Twi'lek girl close. Ben watched, eyes narrowed, as Rey's pale pink lips moved toward Luma…and brushed over her cheek. She scrambled back into her spot on the edge of the circle.

"Be still my heart!" Luma joked, and the others joined in with laughter. She smiled and winked at Rey. "Very good for a first time. And that was your first kiss, wasn't it, scavenger girl?"

Rey's face reddened. "I didn't meet many people where I grew up."

He'd had enough. "I think it's time to call it a night, don't you?" Ben leaned forward to grab the lightsaber.

"It's not your turn, Ben Solo. It's hers," Criss pointed out. The others murmured in agreement.

"It's fine," Rey said under her breath, her face cooling. Her hazel eyes found his, and his heart skipped a beat. He found himself fascinated by her hands scooping up his lightsaber; she paused to study the mechanisms, her fingers smoothing over the nicks and scratches his lightsaber had acquired since its last cleaning. Ben maintained his weapon well, but trained hard and it showed. Rey's thumb traced the activating button slowly and she looked up, her face set in determined lines.

"My turn," she said, her eyes alight. She set the hilt down on the floor, and spun. The lightsaber turned and turned, and Ben felt a prickling awareness dawning at the back of his neck. The others cheered and called out names as the hilt spun, inviting her to kiss them, but Rey ignored them, sitting with a soft smile on her face. Ben shivered, and wondered how the others couldn't feel it, feel _her_. Her focused gaze never left the lightsaber, spinning, spinning, spinning…

Until it came to a swift stop, pointing to the left of Rey.

The moisture in Ben's mouth disappeared at once.

The circle of Padawans inhaled, their eyes darting to one another.

Rey turned, her gaze finally leaving his lightsaber and turning to him. For the first time since he'd met her, she looked scared.

"Ben? Are you playing?" Her voice was husky.

Ben Solo looked around at the expectant faces of his fellow students, their eyes shining from Corellian brandy, reflecting the flames from the hearth. Luma's _lekku_ quirked upward with curiosity; Criss's left eyebrow rose, and Daven didn't even bother disguising his smirk. They were all waiting, and watching.

Rey's eyes shone with a burning question, and he wanted nothing more than to answer it.

 _Enough_ , he thought.

"Yes. I'll play."

Rey's lips parted and then snapped shut again.

 _Didn't think I would accept? Then why manipulate the game_? He wondered. He didn't really understand anything about girls. Maybe that's why he never took part in the Padawan games. He never understood how things worked between people; they were so much more complicated than his lightsaber, and far less interesting than exploring the Force. She was interesting, though.

"Well?" Criss urged. "Go on, Rey."

The girl from Jakku, the one who had haunted him since her arrival, leaving him with a constant awareness of her presence _\- Rey_ \- crawled to him on her hands and knees.

Her hands rose to rest on his shoulders, as she had with Luma, and Rey leaned in, her lips hovering over his cheek.

Even the chaste touch of her hands was more than he could bear; his heart hammered wildly in his chest. _Kiss my cheek and get it over with_ , Ben thought, trying to quell the disappointment.

He was completely unprepared for Rey to tilt her head and press her soft lips against his mouth.

Her hands slid up his neck and wrapped around Ben, her strength and a tug of the Force pulling him tighter to her.

The shock disappeared quickly with the heat of Rey's body pressed against him, her mouth interlocking with his. Ben's arms somehow found their way around her body, as her lips parted, letting him inside.

The circle faded away as their mouths met again and again, tasting each other until they were shuddering. Rey's hands slid into his hair, tugging gently and sending tingles down his spine. Fleetingly Ben thanked the Force for the instinct leading him to grow his hair out, so he could feel this girl drag her fingers through it. He thanked the Force for the strange twist of fate that set her in his uncle's path on Jakku, thanked it for letting Rey see something worthwhile in him, thanked it for the way their mouths and tongues melded and made everything but this moment vanish into the stars and the night.

"Wow," Rey whispered when they came up for breath, her lips hovering over his. He felt rather than saw her smile.

"Well _that_ was something," Luma said.

Rey and Ben pulled apart guiltily; Ben sat back and hoped no one would notice or remark on the bulge in his trousers.

Rey's dimples deepened, and she rubbed her arms, shivering without his warmth. "So…your turn, I guess?"

Ben shifted forward to grab the lightsaber, setting it to spinning with a decisive turn. His chest felt tight and full, bursting with the possible. He knew what came next; Rey's smile told him she felt it too, through the Force.

It was too easy; it was his lightsaber, after all. It spun fiercely until it came to a stop, pointing straight at Rey.

This time it was Ben Solo who leaned forward to crawl to her, pulling them together with the strength of the Force that bound them. His lips met hers, and the tightness in his chest eased, leaving him with a shattering sense of peace and the knowledge that this girl was his. He belonged to her, and in the quiet of the night, it was all he needed.

* * *

There were days when Kylo awoke ashamed of his dreams and the fantasies he used to lull himself to sleep. Snoke had scorned his weakness, mocking his propensity for rewriting the past instead of letting go of it. Perhaps the old man had been right on that account. But there was too much truth in this dream for him to feel guilty over calling it to mind.

He'd never felt right about taking part in any of the Padawan games; with his uncle as their master, it set him apart. And even then, Kylo's power had frightened the others. He'd sit back and watch them connect, their gasping, their bodies arching and learning and wanting; he ached with envy. But it was not for him to take part and deep down, he knew he didn't want to touch those people.

But if _she_ had been there…If he hadn't been alone, if she'd reached out to him before…

 _Stop_ , he told himself.

Some days he wondered. When he felt the taste of her brushing the corners of his mind, the Force trying to haul them back together, he wondered.

Wondering would not change the past though, or end the war. It wouldn't change how many nights over the years he'd watched his peers play their games, or change how many of them didn't survive what followed. It wouldn't fix his final mistake with Snoke, which was not killing the man (he'd never regret that), but that he believed him when he claimed to have created the bond.

And now it was too late.

Kylo Ren rose from his bed, and prepared himself for the day ahead. With any luck, they would come one step closer to stamping out the Rebellion.

As for the Jedi, he'd rather not know where she was if he was being honest with himself.

 _She's out there, alive. That's enough._

It would have to be. Seeing her again wouldn't end well for one of them, or both.

Mornings like this, though, he thought it might be worth it.


End file.
